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Rose Garden Funeral

The phantasmagoria of a quaalude sleep only thickens over time
Blood of mine turns the green stems of roses into red velvet thorns
 Vines, they wrap themselves around my existence till I turn grey
Overtime these flower fields will decompose like I have into their soil
But for now, l linger in each breeze of the fragrance of roses
Inhaling me
As you inhale your favorite floral scent
Written by brownwidow (Susie13)
Published
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